


Strictly Business

by wrotemywayout



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, but evryones okay!!, noting too explicit or harmful, theres some mentions of being uncomfortable w flirting/advances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-30 02:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16756057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrotemywayout/pseuds/wrotemywayout
Summary: Fake dating-ish AU in which Spot and Race pretend to be in a relationship in order to get guys in bars to stop flirting with them. Sometimes the dating scene is so hard to navigate it's best not to try.





	Strictly Business

Spot didn’t know any of the songs that the club’s speakers poured out but it’s not really necessary to know what you’re dancing to have a good time. He knew that the alcohol flowing through his veins gave his hips the freedom to move where the beat takes them and he could momentarily forget about the stress of exams and the empty Word document that’s supposed to be his pre-law essay.

And suddenly that’s all he can think about. He needs another drink. Maneuvering across the dancefloor is difficult but not impossible, as long as you’re okay with a few stepped on toes. Spot took his first breath of somewhat fresh air in a while when he finally broke through the swarm of bodies separating his lungs and something decent to breathe, he wondered what it was like to be Davey or Finch, tall enough to have his head above the crowd. 

Spot head toward the bar stools he and Race had sat at during the start of the night, hoping to find an empty seat, and for a second there was one. Race was already there with an open spot to his right until some guy took the seat. The guy turned his seat toward Race and flashed a grin that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but flirtatious. Spot distanced himself, maybe Race could use the hookup. He knew better than to cockblock his best friend. He could take a different seat when one opened. He figured Race’s sex drive was superior to his want of more beer. 

Was it creepy to watch Race talk to his guy? Maybe a little strange how he was so interested in their conversation? Probably. But Spot continued to wait. He stood with his shoulder resting on the wall until he saw someone stand up and leave the bar. The girl who had been sitting on the other side of Race. He didn’t want to interrupt but he really wanted that beer. Whatever, he’ll try not to eavesdrop. 

Spot hurried to the seat before someone else could claim it and waited for the bartender to catch his eye. 

“Actually, yeah I do,” he could hear Race say. 

“I don’t see him here.” the mystery guy responded. 

“Just a moment, please.” Race punctuated his sentence by turning in his chair to face Spot. Spot barely had time to let the confused look overtake his face when Race’s lips suddenly came crashing into his. Race’s hand rose to rest on his cheek while Spot remained frozen under his best friend’s touch. What is going on? Why is this happening? What has gotten into Race? 

They soon disconnected, Race reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and slammed it onto the bar. He then grabbed Spot’s wrist and dragged him away from the bar. When he came to the door he dropped his hold on Spot and rushed out of the building, red in the face and walking quickly. Spot stood still for a moment as his brain caught up and he followed Race outside. 

Spot could see Race reaching to wipe tears from his cheeks as he jogged to catch up. “Hey, Racetrack, wait up,” he called. Race kept walking. It was Spot’s turn to grab Race’s wrist now, turning Race to face toward him. 

“Do you hate me now?” Race asked through shaky breath. 

“What? Of course not. I’m confused as all hell but I don’t hate you, Tony, come on.” Spot was mildly hurt that Race thought that one confusing and probably drunken kiss could immediately ruin their friendship. 

Spot didn’t expect the massive hug Race pulled him into, but it wasn’t unwelcome. “He was so fucking creepy, Spot. I needed a way to get out. I told him I have a boyfriend and he didn’t believe me and you were right there and I’m sorry.” Race’s voice sounded small and Spot tightened his grip on the hug. 

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

Race pulled away and wiped his tears once more. “I’m gonna head back to the apartment. I’m done for the night.” 

“Okay,” Spot said. “Let’s go.” 

The confusion on Race’s face was evident. “It’s only like eleven. You can stay.” 

“I don’t want to. Not if it means you’re alone.” Spot and Race began the walk home, a comfortable silence falling between them. Words weren’t needed against the sounds of the city. 

The next weekend rolled around, Spot’s essay long forgotten, and a new trip to the club fast approaching. Spot was standing at the bathroom mirror gelling his hair as he called to Race. 

“Hey, Racer?” 

“Yeah?” Race walked to the bathroom doorway, sliding on his jacket. “What’s up?” 

“I was thinking,” Spot started and there was no turning back now. This could be a big mistake. “Remember last week? At Warren’s?” 

Race groaned. “I thought we weren’t gonna talk about it anymore. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or whatever. It was the only thing I thought to do.” 

“No, that’s not it.” Spot frowned at his reflection in the mirror, his hair never sitting the way he wanted. “I actually think it was really smart. I thought maybe if you had to do it again that’d be okay?” His own thoughts sounded like a question as they finally left his mouth. 

“Oh, that’s not at all what I thought you’d say. So maybe like, we pretend to be dating to get away from any hypothetical creeps?” Race asked. 

“Yeah, maybe. I thought it might be useful sometimes. If anything like last time happens again we know what to do.” Spot turned away from the mirror and toward Race. He questioned to his hair with his eyebrows furrowed and Race immediately started to fix it for Spot. Spot could never get it just right like Race could. 

“I guess that makes sense. Won’t it be kinda weird though? You put too much of that gel shit in here. It goops it all up.” Race stepper back to look at Spot. “I feel like it might be awkward.” 

“Yeah, I guess it could be. I thought maybe it could help. Nevermind though, you’re probably right.” Spot looked back into the mirror and started to reach for his hair before Race swatted his hand away. 

“Don’t mess it up. It looks perfect as is.” Race started to walk away into the living room as he continued speaking. “I think it could definitely be useful, as long as we’re on the same page. So like, if we’re uncomfortable with some guy flirting or whatever we can find each other and pretend to be dating. What about boundaries.” 

“I dunno,” answered Spot. “I guess it depends on the situation. Like I’ll try not to do anything too intimate or whatever but you gotta what you gotta do.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense. It’s not like it’ll happen a lot.” 

It happened a lot. 

It seemed that as soon as they knew what to do if a creepy guy started talking to them, they realized how many creepy guys talk to them. At first, it was uncomfortable for them to act as if they’re in a relationship but it soon became natural. Race would make eye contact with Spot across the bar and Spot would swoop in with a kiss on the cheek and a “Hey, babe. Who’s this?” causing whoever was once talking to Race to either apologize and leave or realize he’s outnumbered before backing off. 

Race was a big fan of physical contact and frequently came up behind Spot, pressing his chest against Spot’s back, arms slung around his neck and his chin resting on either Spot’s shoulder or head, depending on where he could reach. He would casually touch him for a couple minutes to make sure whoever they sent away was gone and Spot would never admit the sort of loss he felt when Race’s hands were no longer against his skin. 

It must be because Spot’s been single for so long. 

Their sort of fake relationship became casual. Short kisses before going to the bathroom, hands in back pockets Lara Jean style, pet names so sweet they’d deny ever saying them. And it was harmless, helpful even. Pleasant. 

Usually, it was Race who found himself being saved by Spot. Spot had that kind of “Don’t fuck with me” attitude while Race was much more personable. Which made it even more of a surprise that Spot was this scared. 

The whole squad had gone out to celebrate Finch’s birthday and Spot was getting a second round of drinks when he approached. He was tall, looked strong. His name was probably Brad or something. Spot wasn’t even quite sure what he was saying, but he knew that maybe-Brad was very close to him, and he was whispering less than appropriate things in his ear. Spot was frozen in shock and fear, not knowing whether to cry or punch this guy. 

Before he had to decide, a hand covered his balled fist and he was being dragged away. Away from the bar, away from maybe-Brad, away from the bottles he was meant to be taking back to his friends. It wasn’t until he was stopped on the dancefloor that he realized that it was Race dragging him away, but in hindsight who else would it be? 

Race turned around against Spot in a sorry attempt at grinding in order to have a conversation. 

“Was I reading that right?” He asked. “That guy was scary as fuck, right?” 

“Yeah,” Spot muttered, his hands finding their way to Race’s waist, trying to appear natural. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so close to punching someone and still hesitating. I couldn’t tell what was going on inside your head.” Race moved closer to Spot, beginning to get more comfortable and less worried. That is until he saw the guy that had been talking to Spot emerged toward the outside of the dancefloor, seemingly looking for somebody. “Don’t freak out,” he told Spot but gave no time for questions before turning around and crashing their lips together and immediately deepening the kiss. This was the kind of kiss that Race would judge people for sharing on the club dancefloor. A “get a room” kiss. 

But Spot was his best friend and he could be in danger, so Spot’s chapped lips against his own and the taste of Spot’s disgusting mixed drink on his tongue was a small price to pay. 

Spot had no clue what was going on. But he trusted Race and figured this must be part of a greater scheme. Race was smarter than people give him credit for, so, when they started moving toward the door, lips barely separating, Spot went along with it. 

The cold outside air hit their faces as the door swung shut behind them. 

 

“What was that?” Spot asked dumbly as their lips disconnected. 

“Oh, yeah, Sorry, that guy was back. Looked like maybe he was looking for you. Sorry, let’s go home. “ Race began to blush and started down the sidewalk. 

“Tony?” 

Race stopped walking and turned back. 

“Thank you.” Spot jogged to catch up to Race before continuing to walk to the apartment. “I mean it.” 

“Don’t mention it.”

And they didn’t. Until the next afternoon. 

With their friends, birthdays are not a one day deal. Everyone gets one night out of their choosing and one lunch at Jacobi’s. Today was Finch’s lunch. 

Their usual table was already loud and lively when Race and Spot walked in. They were among the last to arrive so they began to separate in order to find seats when Jack spoke up. 

“Hey, Dave. Maybe we should move so these guys can sit together.” 

 

The rest of the table grew quiet as attention turned to this conversation. 

“Um, okay?” Spot started. “What were you scheming, Kelly?” 

“Nothing at all. I just thought you’d want to sit next to your Racetrack here.” The grin on Jack’s face seemed to almost spread across the entirety of his cheeks. 

“Jack, what the fuck are you talking about? It’s not like we’re only friends with each other.” Race added. 

“So you’re telling me,” said Crutchie from across the table, “that you’d be just as happy sitting next to Elmer than Spot.” 

“Guys, what the hell? Don’t drag me into this.” chimed Elmer. 

“Yeah,” said Race. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. 

“Sure,” Jack scoffed. “As if you’d make out with Elmer the way you were making out with Spot night.” 

“Is that what this is about?” Spot asked, both worried and relieved. 

“Okay.” Race sighed. “First of all, I totally would make out with Elmer.” 

“Hell yeah you would.” Elmer sat a bit higher in his seat and sipped his drink. 

“That wasn’t anything real, guys.” Spot started. 

“Yeah, some creepy guy was coming onto Spot and that was just to get him away.” 

“Seems a bit extreme for just some random guy in a bar.” said Finch. 

Race sat in the seat nearest him. “Let’s just forget about it, guys. It didn’t mean anything. It’s not like a bunch of you guys haven’t kissed each other before. No big deal.” 

“Sure, Racer.” said Jack. “I’m sure it was completely innocent. No strings attached.” He glanced at the way Race and Spot were sitting, legs pressed together and closer than they had to be. When Spot caught him looking he quickly moved away. 

But that was just because they’re friends. Roommates. Nothing more. 

Still, the guys were acting all smug as if they’d cracked some sort of code. The whole lunch was filled with not so subtle jokes and glances. 

Later that night, Spot and Race decided to stay in when a group of their friends went to a movie. Race had to go to the library to study for an upcoming chemistry exam and Spot had had his fair share of the bullshit from the guys for one day. 

As the night went on Race had stayed at the library. Spot, realizing he hadn’t eaten decided to order a pizza. He sent Race a text asking if he should order anything for him, expecting him to be coming home soon. When the reply came in that Race didn’t want any food Spot immediately became concerned. Race never said no to pizza. So, he ordered Race’s regular order anyway and waited for it to arrive. 

After the delivery guy came Spot slid his coat on and began the walk to the library, pizza in hand. 

The library was mostly empty so Race was easy to spot. He sat amongst a pile of books and papers, hair messy and eyes red. Spot sat next to him and gently moved the papers aside, placing the pizza box in their place. 

“You need to take a break, T.” Spot said. 

“I don’t have time. I need to keep reviewing.” Race’s voice sounded as tired as he looked. 

“We both know you already know this. You probably knew this sophomore year of high school, nerd. Have something to eat. 

“But I can’t… I need to.. Thank you, Spot.” Race sat a little straighter and opened the box. “You didn’t have to-” Race was cut off by Spot’s lips crashing into his own. While this was far from a new feeling it was a wildly new environment. Sweeter, more domestic. Calm. He could get used to this. 

“Sorry, Race. I just thought that you-” Spot said as they seperated. 

“It’s okay. Who were we pretending for this time?” Race asked with a grin. 

“I’m done with pretending, Race.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello my pals i'm back. feel free to bombard me with comments because i crave them. if you have any requests or messages you can drop them here or on my tumblr, little-bit-of-cinnamon.


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